"Foggy Afternoon" lyrics
Baby Bash & Paul Wall Lyrics
Chopping down the block and I'm banging screws
I'm in the city where they drop the top and holler, "What it do?"
So tell me if you ready, tell me if you ready
Ready for another foggy afternoon
"Don't panic, it's organic" is a slogan, friends
Smoking on these joints [?]
Holding [?] take a puff and hold it in
Old friends asking me what time the show begins
I don't know 'cause I'm higher than a meteor
I don't fuck with suckers, I don't fuck with greedy hoes
Got some genetics from the FedEx, now I'm popping seas
The kinda flavors that I savor when I'm serving trees
It's getting foggy if you smoke with me you might go zombie
We smoke that real shit man, that heavy shit, that chee chung chongey
That cookie dough, that shit that ain't for rookies though
That's a joint up in my mouth, that ain't no tootsie roll (yee)
Chopping down the block and I'm banging screws
I'm in the city where they drop the top and holler, "What it do?"
So tell me if you ready (I'm ready), tell me if you ready (I'm ready)
Ready for another (what it do?) foggy afternoon (say it man)
I could roll it up, one-handed, blindfolded
Big smoker, getting fully loaded
[?] with the cone tip poking
It's a foggy afternoon, everything is slow motion
I'm just coasting on a mid-day high
You gon' need at least a [?] to match my vibe
I'm 'bout to roll another ball bat [?]
[?] real rock star was heaven-sent
I got [?] pot hole, we going back to back
I just left [?] and copped the astronaut pack
Grab a handful, sit back and enjoy
Another foggy afternoon, my boy (my boy)
I'm in the city where they drop the top and holler, "What it do?"
So tell me if you ready, tell me if you ready
Ready for another foggy afternoon
"Don't panic, it's organic" is a slogan, friends
Smoking on these joints [?]
Holding [?] take a puff and hold it in
Old friends asking me what time the show begins
I don't know 'cause I'm higher than a meteor
I don't fuck with suckers, I don't fuck with greedy hoes
Got some genetics from the FedEx, now I'm popping seas
The kinda flavors that I savor when I'm serving trees
It's getting foggy if you smoke with me you might go zombie
We smoke that real shit man, that heavy shit, that chee chung chongey
That cookie dough, that shit that ain't for rookies though
That's a joint up in my mouth, that ain't no tootsie roll (yee)
Chopping down the block and I'm banging screws
I'm in the city where they drop the top and holler, "What it do?"
So tell me if you ready (I'm ready), tell me if you ready (I'm ready)
Ready for another (what it do?) foggy afternoon (say it man)
I could roll it up, one-handed, blindfolded
Big smoker, getting fully loaded
[?] with the cone tip poking
It's a foggy afternoon, everything is slow motion
I'm just coasting on a mid-day high
You gon' need at least a [?] to match my vibe
I'm 'bout to roll another ball bat [?]
[?] real rock star was heaven-sent
I got [?] pot hole, we going back to back
I just left [?] and copped the astronaut pack
Grab a handful, sit back and enjoy
Another foggy afternoon, my boy (my boy)
Writer(s): Ronald Bryant
